


Suffocation

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Horror, Explicit Language, Gen, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 20:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: What if Dean never hugged Sam goodbye before putting his plan for containing Michael in motion? If he didn’t build the Mal’ak box in Donna’s shed, but somewhere secret instead? What if he left a letter before he walked out – a letter that Sam found hours too late?Written for SPN Eldritch Bang 2019.





	Suffocation

Written for the 2019 SPN Eldritch Bang

**Amazing art done by**: [**kirathehyrulian**](https://kirathehyrulian.livejournal.com/)

**Warnings:** Psychological and Physical Torture, Body Horror, Some Language. Images contain self-harm!

**A/N: **All thanks to my amazing artist and my darling editor who has never done me wrong. lol Also to the wonderful people who run this amazing challenge. Story assumes that Dean never told anyone he was building the Mal'ak box and changes the timeline completely from that point to the point where Jack kills Michael. Story also ignores the fact that angels lost their wings and can no longer teleport. All places mentioned are real, though I was unable to find out exactly how deep it is at Panther Beach. It just looked suitably rocky and cliffy and stuff. :D _Oh Sammy Boy_ is, of course, _Oh Danny Boy_, a very old and beloved Irish ballad. Alice in Chains tune is _Man in the Box_. 

Alright y'all, hop over to my artists' amazing work (through the link above to their blog or [here for specific art](https://kirathehyrulian.livejournal.com/2444.html) for this challenge) then come back and read the story! Onward and upward...here we go!

**SUFFOCATION**

It was the dark that got to him first. He’d never laid in the box, of course. Couldn’t quite bring himself to. He’d never been afraid of the dark, not even when he learned all the things that lived in it when he was way too young. But he’d never been in such complete darkness before, either.

Even when you think it’s dark, it’s not. There’s always light underneath the black; seeping around the edges, covering the darkness with slivers of unnoticed light. But not when you’re locked in tight - sealed in a truly water and air tight box where nothing lives but fear. That’s when you learn what true darkness really is.

That’s when all you notice is the sound of your breathing and your heart pounding in your ears; the feel of things under your fingers that you just can’t see; the heat of your own breath as it fills the air.

It took less time than Dean expected for the air in the box to turn heavy and oppressive. The box was carefully spelled for the oxygen to last until they reached the bottom of the ocean - Dean’s new home. So why did it feel like he was already fighting to breathe?

He’d made a critical mistake. For all of his secret and obsessive planning, he’d forgotten one detail - his own fear.

He’d figured everything else out to the smallest detail. He knew that he couldn’t trust anyone he and Sam knew not to tell Sam where he was headed, and he didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know just on principle, so he’d decided to get a company to pick up the box and deliver it to the hunters that would take it out and dump it under the water for him. They’d known Mary years before she died, and Dean knew he could trust them. They thought it was something supernatural, so they wouldn’t try to open it and they wouldn’t ask questions.

His plan was perfect.

Except he was starting to freak out and was already considering suicide and the fucking box wasn’t even underwater yet. He’d planned to at least make sure things went as planned and then slit his wrists once the box settled on the sea floor.

He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking. He hadn’t realized he’d freak out so quickly.

He could barely catch his breath.

The box was air and water tight. Warded for and against everything he could think of. Nothing was getting in or out. Not Michael, not air, not light. Not him. He’d built it himself. It wouldn’t fail. Days and nights of surreptitious research and planning and work - it would not fail.

His heart was pounding. His head was pounding. He was doing his best to keep his breathing slow and even. Then it would come back to him.

The darkness. The sheer force of all that water pressing into and all around the box. The slow smothering. About Michael in his head, eventually banging his way through the barrier Dean had trapped him behind.

Dean started to breathe more and more heavily. Maybe he’d be better off not trying to drag it out. Maybe he’d be gone before he even got underwater. Before there was any chance of his plan failing.

Before Sam even woke up and read the letter he’d left.

Just in case.

*

_Sam._ Dean had thought about mailing the letter from somewhere on the road, just to guarantee a big enough head start, but couldn’t bring himself to let his brother worry that long. He just couldn’t do that.

Dean had been rock steady when he’d been working on the box – his tomb. He’d known it would have to not only contain an archangel, but it would have to withstand immense pressure on the sea floor. He’d made sure every detail was right – that every weld was solid and smooth and strong.

His hands shook when he wrote the letter for Sam. He started and stopped and started again countless times. How do you say goodbye to the person you took hold of when they were six months old and hadn’t let go of since? How do you put into words what you’ve never had the guts to even think about?

Forever was such a long time. He couldn’t even imagine. Forever in that box. Forever without Sam.

In the end, he’d kept it simple. Simpler than it should have been for the last thing he’d ever say to his brother.

He left in the middle of the night. Pressed a hand to Sam’s door and then walked away. Left the letter on the coffee pot and begged Sam to forgive him some day if he ever could.

He had a feeling that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

**

Dean had just started to breathe faster when the box started moving. It was being put on the truck then. It wouldn’t be long. The next bit of panic set it. His fingers scrabbled against the inside of the box, but found no purchase against the metal.

_ Calm down, calm down, calm down. There’s no way out of this now. You made this decision and it was the right one. Don’t pussy out now. _

Dean tried to lay quietly, but his mind was racing. A sudden pounding made him jump and reach for the knife he’d brought with him – just in case.

“Why didn’t you bring a gun, Dean? Wouldn’t that have been quicker?”

Michael was back. That must have been what the pounding was, then – Michael trying to break through the barrier. He could try, but once this sarcophagus hit the water he’d be trapped no matter what. Dean couldn’t afford to let anything happen. Just a little bit longer.

*

Michael was singing. He battered the barrier between him and the rest of Dean’s mind like it was some kind of exciting game. Dean’s head was splitting and he was doing his best to ignore Michael completely.

_ Oh, Sammy boy, oh Sammy boy, I love you so! _

_ But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying, _

_ If I am dead, as dead I well may be, _

_ You'll come and find the place where I am lying, _

_ And kneel and say an Ave there for me. _

_ And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, _

_ And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be, _

_ For you will bend and tell me that you love me, _

_ And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me! _

“Wonder what Sammy boy is up to. Think he’s read your letter yet? Wonder how devastated he is. What do you think, Dean?

“Think he’s to the part where you tell him to go back to school? He should _love_ that. What were you thinking? He’s been to Hell, Dean. Go back to school,” Michael scoffed and kept hammering away at the wall keeping him contained.

A mighty pain lanced through Dean’s head and he screamed. He could barely breathe and found himself twisting as much as he could in the small space as he gagged against the pain. He had made sure his stomach was empty just in case, but he spat up bile anyway. He was gasping for air and it felt like his brain and his stomach were turning inside out – like he was being eaten alive from the belly out.

“So dramatic, Dean. Really.” Michael paused for a moment. “I know how you feel. I’ve heard possession can be a very uncomfortable experience. They do call us cannibals, you know - people who are afraid we’re going to use them as vessels. It’s a fair comparison, not going to lie. Demon, angel, we’re all the same, really. We all hollow you out, gnaw on your bones until they crack. Suck everything we can out of you. Angels are worse, actually. We make you give permission first. Ask Sammy, he can tell you. Oh yeah, you can’t.

“What do you think Sammy’s doing right about now?” Michael repeated. “It’s night there still. Probably sleeping, comfy in his bed. He’ll pretend to look for you in the morning, of course, once he gets that ridiculous letter. Especially after the fit you pitched after Purgatory.”

Dean tried not to listen. He focused instead on getting his breathing under control and struggling to focus through the pain in his head.

“He won’t try very hard though, I wager. After a certain point, the leaving starts to seem like the best idea, don’t you think?” Michael was quiet for a moment, like he was giving Dean a chance to respond. “Aww, come on Deano. I can feel everything you think and do, you might as well talk to me. It’ll make it easier on both of us. We’re gonna be here for the rest of eternity. That’s a long, long time.”

Dean started to panic again. He’d miscalculated in the worst way. He thought he’d be dead long before Michael was free and Michael could just fend for himself for the rest of forever.

“Ah, the panic. There it is. You’re always so stoic, you know? Mr. Tough Guy. Mr. Sacrifice. Is that why you barely said anything to Sam in that letter?”

Dean didn’t react.

“Ooh, fancy a little _Alice in Chains_? Maybe that’ll help you calm down.” Michael started singing again.

_ I'm the man in the box _

_ Buried in my shit _

_ Won't you come and save me? _

_ Save me_

_*_

_ Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut? _

_ Jesus Christ, deny your maker _

_ He who tries, will be wasted _

_ Feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut _

“I’d have you headbang, but there’s really not much room in there is there? Anyway, what were we talking about before? Oh, yes, you not talking at all. There’s really no reason for it. I know you think I’m occupying some tiny, seedy corner of your mind right now, but that’s just not the case.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier when I was talking about cannibalism. I’m not just sitting neatly in a constrained space, you know. You are.”

Dean could feel his arm raise and lower and his feet kick up to the top of the box.

“I’m spread all through your body, Dean. It’s mine now.” Michael continued, and he started sounding annoyed. “Honestly though, your heart is racing and your breathing is really out of control. If you keep it up you’ll use up all the oxygen in here in no time.”

Dean could almost feel him stiffen up with glee and started to get really worried.

“You know what? We can’t have that! Tell you what, I’ll help you out.”

Dean could feel his breath become harder and harder to catch. There was an immense pressure on his chest and his heartbeat slowed little by little. It was becoming hard to focus and Dean felt like he was choking. He began to jerk and struggle against the suffocation, his arms and legs flailing in the cramped confines of the box.

“Shh. Don’t fight it, Dean. Just let it come.”

Dean couldn’t help but struggle. Michael just laughed.

“Dean. Stop.”

He knew nothing else for a while.

*

“You are quite a bit more formidable than I expected, I must say. I’m not sure why I’m shocked though, you _are_ the Michael Sword, after all. That takes a strength of will not found in anyone else in the world. Adam tried, lord knows, but if that fight had gone on any longer, I’d have split him right down the middle in a rain of blood and guts right there on the grass.

“He’s fine by the way. In case you were wondering.” A quick pause. “More or less. Little pissed at you and Sammy though. Whoo boy. I mean, he got it. The whole cleaved from one human being thing you and your brother have going on. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a little unhappy being left in that cage.

“Ah, family. Gotta love ‘em right? Speaking of family, wonder what Sammy’s doing right this very moment. He’s probably found the letter by now. I would normally just check in and see, but you’ve put so many damn wards on this thing I can’t penetrate it.

“Think he’s upset? My money’s on relief. I mean, think about it,” Michael started sounding excited. “He’s free now. Free from me,” Michael paused. “Free from you. Free from the intensity of your lives. It can’t be easy you know, being the focus of your obsession. You’re one of the most intense people I’ve ever met when it comes to Sammy.

“That’s not at all normal, you know. I mean, I get it. You’ve been everything to him and for him since he was a child. Daddy wasn’t much help was he? You know, I always wondered. Why didn’t he ever take you to a ball game like he did Adam? Would it have really killed him to settle down while you grew up? You didn’t catch old Yellow Eyes until you were full grown anyway.

“Kind of makes it seem like that shitty childhood didn’t have to happen at all, doesn’t it? In the long run, all of it was for nothing. What did you get out of it? Sam didn’t escape Lucifer after all and you’re here. With me. For the rest of eternity.

“Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but goddamn, would it have killed your Daddy to find a house somewhere? Let you go to school and play ball? Seems pretty selfish to me. Think of everything you could have had, Dean. What Sam could have had.” Michael paused, giving Dean time to do exactly that.

Dean tried not to, but he couldn’t help it. What could have been started flickering across his mind like a movie, still frames and technicolor animation. He didn’t blame his dad for the life they lived. Except he did. Deep down in his gut, when he saw the kids running around with nothing on their mind but toys and food. The kids that went home every night to the same bed in the same room in the same house.

He did his best for Sammy. It was never enough. He knew that. He didn’t need Sammy’s discontented face to tell him how he’d failed. How his Dad had failed them both. Dean had never needed much, though. Not really. He just needed Sammy safe. Everything else was icing on the cake.

He’d always understood Dad’s need for revenge – the need to find and destroy the thing that had killed his wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. Dean just wished he hadn’t so often forgotten his sons in order to do it. If he’d just shown them a little more care. Even the smallest superficial bits of normalcy he showed Adam.

He could have still trained them and let them have some kind of life outside of the road and dingy motels. He could have…

All of this could have turned out so differently. 

But he didn’t. And Dean didn’t. And Sam didn’t.

A thousand chances to go their own way and they didn’t.

And now Sam was alone, and Dean was here. Forever.

“I can _feel_ you, Dean. If I let you, you’d be crying right now, wouldn’t you? Hmm. Let’s see.”

There was a crushing pain in Dean’s chest as his heart started beating and his lungs inflated. He screamed, his voice thin and barely there. It felt like there was a tight band around his throat and he cried and gagged and tried desperately to breathe evenly. It was impossible.

Michael laughed. "How much oxygen do you think is in this box right about now? I’d say it’s still more than the carbon dioxide, don’t you? I’d breathe more carefully if I were you.” Michael paused for a moment, listening to the rattling, desperate breaths Dean was trying so hard to control.

“Do you know that as an archangel I possess most of the knowledge in the universe?” Michael continued. “There is nothing new under the sun. I always liked that interpretation. It’s much more lyrical than the original. _The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun_. __That’s Ecclesiastes 1:9, in case you don’t know.

“God literally knows that some of those interpretations you humans insist are the truth couldn’t be farther from it. I think there’s going to be some very confused “devout followers of the Gospels” when they get upstairs and they find out there’s no place for them. Come to think of it, I wonder how many of those people you spent so much time torturing in Hell were “believers”. Did any of them try to convince you they were in the wrong place?”

_ They had. So many of them. _

“Ah, I digress. I had a point. I don’t possess_all_ of the knowledge in the world. Father was stingier than you’d expect. Well, you’ve met him. You’re probably not all that surprised, actually. People tend to shy away from the collective unconscious these days. Jung had it dead to rights though.”

Michael suddenly snapped his fingers and Dean could feel his heart stop and his lungs wither. His tongue shriveled in his mouth.

_ No! Fuck, why couldn’t he just let him die. _

“I got wrapped up in talking and almost forgot all about you. Wouldn’t that have been terrible?” Michael didn’t wait for a reply this time. “Didn’t you ever wonder about things you just knew how to do without being shown or told? Things you instinctively knew to avoid? Every human in this universe is tapped into one collection of instincts, experiences and feelings.

“When someone you love died, you didn’t have to be taught to be sad. You simply felt it. Of course, some people swear that children learn by observing, but what about...”

Dean did his best to ignore Michael’s rambling. Maybe he’d get tired of Dean and just… let him go. Let him head to Heaven and spend the rest of eternity with Sam and Baby where he belonged. Maybe. Something Michael said caught Dean’s attention.

“… It’s not the carbon dioxide that would kill you. Carbon dioxide will actually displace oxygen. Did you know that? So the more you breathe out, the less you have to breathe in. Now, on its own, carbon dioxide would make it hard to breathe and could stop your central nervous system altogether. I’ll give you a moment to think about that.” Michael paused for a split second then continued. “The real problem would be trying to breathe with no oxygen in the air. It would make your heart pound, you’d lose your breath, you’d get clumsy and then your emotions would be all over the place.

“That’s all before the oxygen runs completely out. _That_ would cause vomiting, convulsions and then coma and death. The damage to your organs is permanent even if you’re brought back. I think that would be great fun, don’t you? If I keep bringing your functions back as the oxygen just declines?

“I’d have to stop it before you went into a coma, of course, I think that might affect even me. But I’d love to see how many times I could take you right to that point before I shut everything down again. What do you think, Dean? Want to try?”

If Dean had tears, he’d have sobbed.

“Maybe I’ll just have you use that knife you brought with you. Slice little pieces of flesh and muscle off when I get bored. I wonder if you would bleed? Your heart’s not beating, after all. What blood you had is all pooled along your back. Let’s see, shall we? I need to know what would happen.”

_ No! _

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Dean. It’s for science. You don’t want to impede progress, do you? Of course not. Hold on now. Here we go!”

Dean could only watch in horror as he picked up the knife and cut a long, thin strip out of his other arm. There was very little blood.

“Awww, it’s kind of like lunch meat. What a let down.”

_ Please don’t try again. Please be done. _

“I can hear you begging, Dean. Don’t worry, it wasn’t as fun as I expected.”

Dean was relieved.

“We’ll do it again when I bring you back to life.”

It was Hell all over again.

“Don’t worry, Dean. We’ve got plenty of time to figure out how to keep ourselves occupied. I tell you what, how about I let you rest for awhile? You deserve a break.”

Dean very deliberately tried not to even think.

“Go ahead, Dean. Sleep. Lord knows we’re not going anywhere.” Michael laughed at his own joke then sobered. “I certainly don’t want you to break too soon. Where’s the fun in that?”

_Too late_, Dean thought. _Too late by years_. __

Dean wasn’t aware of anything else for awhile.

**

Sam stepped into the hall and pounded on Dean’s door as he passed. He headed for the bathroom and then stumbled to the kitchen. He blinked at the letter on the coffee maker. It took him a moment in his early morning daze, but then he began to read. Then he started to scream.

“Cas! Cas get down here! I need you now!”

It took hours for Cas to show up. Sam expected it but he cursed Cas with every breath that wasn’t spent on trying to find Dean. Sam had called everyone he could think of to see if they’d talked to or seen Dean in the last few hours. They hadn’t. Sam was frantic.

When Cas finally appeared, Sam couldn’t do anything but hand him the letter.

_ _*_ _

_ Hey Sammy, _

_ I know you’re not going to understand, but there was no other way. I’d been through it a thousand times in my head. This the only thing I know will work. I’ve built a Mal’ak box. I know you know what that is. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. _

_ I found a hunter to fly me and the box to the west coast. That should tell you how serious I am, huh? Me, flying? _

_ <strike> I just </strike> I’m sorry. It’s your time now, though, Sammy. Live your life. The one I kept you from. Maybe go back to school. Find that perfect girl. Get a dog. _

_ I left Baby at the Overmiller Airport. It’s just a few miles. The keys are in the trunk. Just jimmy it. Be good to her. _

_ Don’t hate me too much, _

_ Dean _

__* _ _

“Cas you’ve got to find him!”

“I can’t. The Enochian on your ribs, I…”

“You found us before!”

“You called to me then. I would never have been able to find you otherwise.”

“There has to be something we can do!” Sam screamed and grabbed tightly to Cas. “Find him!”

“Sam…”

Sam was pacing, running his hands through his hair, pulling and muttering to himself. “What about Jack? Cas, what about Jack? Get him here!”

“Jack is human now. Even if he wasn’t with the wards that go onto a Mal’ak box, I don’t know if he could find them even if he had full power.”

“Find him anyway, Cas. Now. I need to stop Dean.”

**

“Tell me about Hell, Dean. What was it like for you? Hmm? I never got to see much of it, seeing as how I was stuck in that stupid cage.”

_ Oh no. _

“I hear you were quite the butcher. Is that right? It takes a lot from what I understand to impress Alastair, but you certainly did it.”

_ No, no, no. _

“Lucifer and I had a lot to talk about before I killed him. We made a lot of plans he and I. Bonded. He was family, you know.”

There was a silence, brittle and sharp.

“Would you like to know about Sam’s time in the cage? I was there. I can tell you all about it. In great, sharp detail.”

_ NO! _

“Tsk. Tsk. Then I expect you to tell me about yours. _Quid pro quo, Clarice_.__ You let me in on what Hell was like for you, and I _don’t_ tell you about how much Luci loved your baby brother’s ass. Deal?”

Dean snarled and Michael just laughed.

“Go on then, talk. Well, _think_, I guess, in your case.”

_ I was tortured for forty years. Every day, Alastair made me an offer. If I would torture souls myself, then I could get off the rack. I said no until I couldn’t say no anymore. _

“And?”

_ And I tortured people until Cas pulled me out. That’s all there was to it. _

“Oh, I’m going to need more than that, Dean. Every torturer I’ve ever known has their favorite methods, for example. What was yours?”

_ What? I didn’t have any favorite anything. I didn’t enjoy it! _

“Didn’t you?”

_ No! _

“I mean, it just seems you threw yourself into it so wholeheartedly you had to be getting__ something__ out of it.”

_ I got nothing out of it! Not even the relief I thought would come! It was torture all its own. You know how time is there. No day and night. No sense of how long anything has been going on. I’d get done with someone and just… I’d be covered in them. I’d look down at myself and… _

_ I vomited at first. So much. You can’t imagine what it feels like. How wet is all is. How gelatinous and cold it is when you’re used to the fire. How hard it is to grip anything when you’re covered in blood and bile and filth. How skin feels when you’re peeling it away from someone’s muscle and bone. _

_ It didn’t feel like I thought. It felt like silicone. Like a thin, warm, rubber. I thought it would stretch more. I thought watching someone’s voice box from the inside while they screamed would be more interesting. _

_ I thought I could do it. I was terrified when I realized that after awhile, I was right. I could do it. I had no problem at a l l , in fact . _

_ One person turned to soup at my feet and someone else would instantly take their place. Alastair sent Sam sometimes, just to really liven things up. That was hard. No matter how many times, that was hard. _

_ They’d sound just like him. Look just like him. Smell just like him. _

“Die just like him.”

_ Yeah. _

“Do you know why I did what I did, Dean?”

_ You had a major hard on for us humans and not in a good way. _

“I suppose you would see it that way. No, that wasn’t really my point. At all.”

_ I know, I know. Daddy issues, just like me and Sam. _

“I really hate that, you know. Daddy issues. Who came up with that anyway?”

_ Seems like all of you had problems with Daddy. Lucifer hated us because he thought God loved us best, and you… _

“To be fair, casting Lucifer out was a bit of an over reaction. How would you feel if your father just threw you out of his family because you wanted a different life?” Michael laughed. “Oh, I really wish Sam were here. He’d know all about that, wouldn’t he?”

Dean didn’t respond.

“Continue, Dean. I want to hear _all_ about it. Don’t leave out anything!”

Dean remained quiet.

“I see. Did you know that Sammy’s knee went out on him whenever he was electrocuted for too long? It just locked right up. Took forever to get loose. Unless you just broke it loose, of course. That always took less time. More screaming, though. Luci would love to…”

_ Stop! I’ll talk. I’ll talk. _

“Tell me how you’d do it, Dean. Was it the same for everyone?”

_ It would depend on how battered I was. How long I’d been at it. If I’d dislocated something or cut myself. It was harder than I ever imagined... _

**

“I think I found them.”

“Dean?”

“No, the people that picked up the box.”

“Ask them where they took it.”

“They won’t tell me.”

Sam glared. “Find out where they are. They’re going to talk. One way or another.”

**

_ The Applegate Farm, half an hour later _

“Sam, I’m sorry. Dean made me promise not to tell anyone where the box went. Including you. He said it wouldn’t even be you, actually.” The man cocked his weapon. “So you got to understand how I’m feeling right about now with you standing on my porch.”

Sam cursed. Dean had covered every base. Well not all of them. He’d forgotten about Cas.

“Cas. Find out what I need to know.”

Cas frowned. “What? Sam, I asked him on the phone already, he wouldn’t te..”

“Read his mind, Cas. Do whatever angel thing you do and find out where my brother is.”

“Sam…”

“Now, Cas.”

Cas reached for the man. “He hasn’t seen Dean. Not since two days ago. He picked up a heavily warded box and took it from the old Overmiller Airport to the county airport. It was loaded on a small plane and left for Santa Cruz, California. He and his son stayed to make sure it made it on the plane and the plane took off.”

Cas looked at him with what might have passed for pity on anyone else.

A chill ran all through Sam and he turned sharply and started to run.

_Santa Cruz,_ Sam thought. _Not too far from Stanford. Goddamn you, Dean_. Sam hurried to Baby and began to hack flight records for the county airport. Only three small planes where going to the San Jose Airport. Two had arrived within the last hour and one was due in the next. Sam booked a ticket and let Cas know he’d be in San Jose in less than four hours and for Cas to find Jack and to be waiting for him when he got there.

With barely a disturbance in the air, Cas was gone.

**

“Dean, Dean, Dean. You really are a surprise. Believe me; I don’t say that lightly. It’s hard to be surprised by people when you can read their minds, let me tell you. I never thought you’d have opened up quite so much. Well, not like I gave you much choice in the matter, but still.

“Oh, I almost forgot! We were going to try our little experiment when you were were actually alive, right?”

_ Not that! _

“Oh come on, Dean, let me have my fun, we’re going to be here a long time. No? Fine. Let’s do this then.”

Dean startled but didn’t have time to question. It felt like his skin was shrinking, pushing tighter and tighter against his bones and organs.

“This is what you’re going to look like, Dean. Probably sooner than you think. Your skin will shrivel as the moisture leaves it. It’s already starting to without all the usual blood coursing through your veins and no beer or food in the last god knows how many hours. It was good thinking, you know? Making sure your gut was empty. I guess it didn’t occur to you that I could make you vomit up pretty much anything I wanted to, did it? Meh. We have time for that, too.

“Your organs will not just stop, they’ll shrivel, too. End up blackened little lumps floating in your empty shell of a body. I know, I know, you can’t see in all this dark. I can. You look like a mummy. One of those half done ones that someone didn’t get quite right.

“Hmm. I did quite well, I think. Go ahead, Dean. Check it out for yourself.”

Dean’s hands starting moving against his will. They slid over dry, powdery skin and it was all he could do to keep his mind blank against the cold, doughy feel of his own desiccated flesh.

“No reaction, huh? Hmm. Let me try again.”

**

_ San Jose, CA _

Sam had tracked down the plane that had been carrying the Mal’ak box and Dean. He pretended to be the shipper checking on delivery.

“Aframian, maybe? Yep, got it right here. It was picked up right on time. Headed to Panther Beach down in Davenport. Should be there and delivered already.”

Sam cursed and waited for Cas and Jack.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I got Jack’s powers back,” Cas answered. “It was Enochian mag...”

“Tell me later. Right now, we need to get to Dean.”

“Do you know where he is?"

"I do. This address. A beach in…” Sam was unable to finish as Cas clamped his hand to Sam and Jack and they were gone. A moment later, they were standing on a cliff overlooking a long bleak stretch of sand.

“He’s down there,” Jack said, pointing. “I can feel the box. It’s like a humming under my skin. I think it’s the Enochian magic you used to restore my grace. There must be Enochian wards on that box.”

Cas was gone before Jack was finished, staggering a mere moment later onto the shore with a giant, Dean sized sarcophagus.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, running down the cliff and across the sand. “Open it!”

“I’m trying, Sam. A Mal’ak box is not meant to open once it’s closed. It’s going to take some time.”

“We don’t have time!”

Cas absently pushed his fingers against Sam’s forehead, putting him to sleep.

**

“Oh, we have visitors. I can hear them. I can’t tell who, but they’re not human. Wonder who found us. Oooh, do you think it’s Sammy Boy after all? Hm. I’m impressed! I seem to have miscalculated exactly how tragically codependent you two are. No matter. I can take care of little brother. I should have done it long ago.”

_Sam, no! Goddammit! _

Michael snorted. “Oh come on, Dean. Don’t act like you’re not relieved for the rescue. I hate to break it to you, though. I’m not going anywhere. Oh, the sights we’ll see, Dean. The things we’ll do. I had great plans for us. You put those plans on hold, but I forgive you.” Michael paused for a moment. “I might even make sure you don’t have to watch when I kill that brother of yours.” A short laugh. “If you’re good.”

*

Cas worked broke through the final ward keeping the Mal’ak box sealed. He woke Sam and stepped away from the box. “You can open it now, Sam.” Jack drew close beside Sam.

Dean was a corpse. He looked like his skin had been shrink wrapped onto his body. His cheeks were sunken and his eye sockets looked empty.

“No!” Sam screamed.

Dean’s paper thin eyelids popped open. “Sammy Boy! So good to see you!”

Sam staggered away from the box.

“Wow, that’s not very polite. You could at least pretend that you’re happy to see big brother.” He looked down, paper thin skin tearing as he moved, dust floating through the shafts of sunlight surrounding them. “Oh, I see. Hold on, let me make myself a little more presentable.”

Dean’s body renewed itself in a wave, fresh, healthy skin replacing the corpse that Sam first saw at an excruciatingly slow pace. Sam could have sworn he could hear screaming as Michael talked, and he forced himself to focus on that and not the inane chatter Michael wouldn’t shut up about.

It had to be Dean. Sam listened, hyper focused, as Dean screamed while his body knit itself back together. He couldn’t even imagine the pain his brother was going through. He watched Michael move his brother’s mouth as he pontificated on, two voices occupying the same throat, one tinny and small, drifting eerie and strained over the ever shifting sand.

The moment Dean was restored, Sam started forward. Jack beat him to it and reached for Michael who opened his mouth yet again. Jack narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Dean’s body froze, his mouth open in surprise, then crashed back into the box - a puppet with no master.

“Dean!” Sam rushed to him. Dean was struggling to sit up. Sam didn’t give him a chance, hauling him over the lip of the box and into the sand. He threw himself on top of Dean and cried. He was muttering something over and over that Dean couldn’t hear.

Hesitantly, Cas approached them and reached for Dean’s face. Michael had done a good job of healing him, clearly wanting a healthy host since he thought he was free. “Hi, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“I have to go find Jack. I’m glad you’re well.”

Sam lifted his head. “What do you mean find Jack? He was just…”

“When he killed Michael, he…”

“Cas? He what?”

“His soul is gone. I need to go find him.” And just like that, Cas was gone.

Sam stared where Cas was for a moment then turned to look at Dean. Stubborn, stupid, martyr Dean.

Dean stared right back. “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam’s face crumpled and he clutched Dean to him for a moment. Then he pushed him back and punched him square in the mouth. Dean fell to the sand, clutching his face.

Sam calmly got up and brushed sand from his clothing - the sweat pants and shirt he’d worn to bed what seemed like forever ago. He reached his hand out to help Dean up.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“I know, Sammy.” Dean said, starting off down the beach after Sam. “I know.”


End file.
